Shattered
by Archaeologist
Summary: At Qui-Gon's funeral, Obi-Wan remembers his past life. They are not happy memories.


**Note:** This story does not reflect my opinions of Qui-Gon! - this is strictly an Obi-Wan point of view! Please note that it might be helpful to have read the Jedi Apprentice series. Plus it's an experiment...Enjoy.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters nor the Star Wars concept. Lucasfilm does. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**-** **Now -**

_Just a rock_, his mind whispered, _just an ordinary, everyday rock_. Rolling the large pebble back and forth in the palm of his trembling hand, his anguished eyes followed the lift and fall as it moved over muscle and bone and sinew.

The black stone was the only thing he had ever truly owned. River-smooth, it had been formed over the eons - the ebb and flow of water wearing away at the edges until nothing remained but the ebony heart. Gleaming, space-dark, with red veins floating through the translucent core like the willowy mists of a proto-star, the stone sat quiescent in his palm...waiting.

It was said that the riverstone was Force-sensitive, although some deny it. It was said that it had saved his memory and he would never deny it. Fingers grazing the slick, velvety surface, the dark pebble heating to his touch, he sat back and remembered...

**-** **Then -**

It hurt. Bruck hit me with a rock and it hurt a lot. He hit me and I tripped and fell down. My Clan just stood there, watching him and me, looking at me like I was some kind of squashed bug. And then he started to laugh and pointed his finger. Called me "Oafy-Wan" once and then did it again. They...they...the whole Clan began to laugh and chant it, pointing and laughing, calling me "Oafy-Wan". I know I'm only almost six and clumsy and don't use the Force right but they laughed. It hurt more than the rock.

I know I should be brave. I'm going to be a Jedi Knight some day and they never cry. But...but my friends laughed and pointed and laughed some more when I started to...to cry. It isn't fair. It isn't right.

So I ran away. Didn't see anyone, just kept wiping my eyes, hoping I would stop crying and be a good Jedi. But I couldn't stop. It isn't fair. Bruck hit me with a rock. I hate rocks. They're pointy and hard and people use them to hurt other people. And I kept wiping my eyes.

They are right, though. I am "Oafy-Wan", just a stupid, stupid kid - clumsy and always tripping over my own feet.

So I kept going, not looking where I was, not caring, the tears making everything all blurry. I slid and bumped and pushed my way until finally I tripped over something brown and huge and fell down. Then I just laid there, hoping that whatever I fell on wouldn't eat me. Do big brown things eat little kids? I didn't know but I didn't get up. What was the point? I'm never going to be a Jedi because Knights don't cry and I do.

The big brown shape moved over, looking down at me. I tried to move out of its way. It seemed friendly enough but I couldn't see clear. Then, when he said "What's this, little one?", I knew that it was one of the grown-up Jedi. The low rumbling voice sounded unhappy, kind of raspy, like he'd been talking too long or maybe he was sick. It could have been that he'd been crying but that was impossible. Grownups don't cry, especially not tall Jedi Masters with brown cloaks.

I sat up, wiping my eyes, trying to be polite, trying to answer him. One must always be polite to a Jedi, especially big ones. But nothing came out of my mouth...well, except for a little sob, but I hoped he didn't hear that.

And then he did a weird thing. He sat down right next to me and asked me who I was. Why did he do that? I'm just a crybaby runaway kid named "Oafy-Wan". But he did and I looked at him straight as I had been taught and told him, "Oafy...er, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master."

He seemed to think about it for a while before he told me that he was Qui-Gon Jinn. I looked at him closer. He was tall and had a broken nose and his eyes were all sad and kind of red. He was blinking pretty hard, too, like he was unhappy. He closed his eyes for a minute, frowning a bit, then looked at me and asked why I was running away. How did he know that? But I figured that, if he's a Jedi Master, he would know everything so I just shrugged and told him the truth because we're supposed to always tell the truth.

He listened very hard, nodding as I told him about my Clan laughing at me, looking sad when I told him that I tripped over him because I was crying. Maybe I shouldn't have told him that. Jedi Masters don't cry. Maybe he wouldn't understand and punish me for falling on him but I did anyway.

But he was kind, instead. He told me that it was not a very Jedi-like thing to do, to laugh at others like that. He promised to talk to my Crèche Master about it. But I just shook my head and asked him not to, that it would just make things worse.

He looked at me then, looked at me hard, like he was seeing into my head or something for the first time. He nodded and said, in a very low, rumbly serious voice, that he would accept my decision. When I look confused, he told me that it meant that he wouldn't tell the Crèche Master because I asked him not to.

After that, we sat there for a while not saying anything. But since he seemed so nice and I should always tell the truth, I told that I still didn't like rocks.

He thought about that for a minute, then reached into his pouch and pulled out this big black stone. I was scared. I thought he was going to hit me with it. He looked really sad when I moved away fast but he just held it out to me, waiting. He said that not all rocks are bad, that stones could be beautiful and nice to have with you. Then he offered to let me hold the one he always carries around.

A Jedi should be brave so I did as he asked, even though I was still scared. But it was warm and smooth like velvet or really soft cloth. When my fingers moved over it, it felt friendly, almost like it was mine and it wanted me to keep it. I got all excited and told him about it but he looked sad again at that. I was sorry that I made him feel so bad so I gave him back his rock, although I really wanted to keep it since it felt so nice.

I told Master Jinn not to be sad, that his rock will make him feel better and I patted his arm. And it did because he actually smiled when I gave him back his stone. Then he stood up and took my hand and we both walked back to the Crèche.

Boy, was Bruck scared when Master Jinn told him off. Old Bruck Chun didn't call me "Oafy-Wan" for a long time after that.

I don't know what happened to Master Jinn. He went away and didn't come back to visit. He was so sad...I hope he's okay.

**-** **Now -**

Channeling the Force into that damnable riverstone, with every memory, it grew hotter. A young life still sweet with hopeful dreams colored and morphed into light and half-light. The child was older now, the memories freshened and clear. But the pain was still there.

**-** **Then -**

Today was my thirteenth birthday and I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Finally! I was so close to being a reject, so close to being left behind with the Agri-Corps on Bandomeer, so close to being a Jedi failure that sometimes it seems as if my Master's acceptance of me as student was the dream. Even now, I often wake up, confused and worried, fearing the worst; the nightmare of Bruck's laughter and taunts of "Farmer Oafy-Wan" still ring clear in my head. They almost seem more real than Padawan Kenobi ever did.

I shook my head at the memories. It took a lot to get my Master to accept me as his apprentice. I had to defeat draigons. I almost got killed on the sea platform when they threw me off. He rescued me, of course, but still wouldn't accept the will of the Force and take me on. It was only when I almost blew myself up in the mines to save the planet that he finally called me Padawan.

A small part of me says that it was about time, past time - that my Master should not have disobeyed the Force in the first place. But that is disloyal and I squash the thought. Sometimes, though, the bitter taste of defeat still lingers in my mouth. I wanted to be chosen just like everyone else, not have to fight my way into acceptance. Is that selfish? Or is it just a foolish childhood fantasy that I would be wanted for myself and not taken as an afterthought?

I know that I need to get past those memories and find joy in what I have, not wallow in self-doubt. My Master is here; he has not repudiated me or my actions. I'm still his Padawan, even on my birthday. But I want more. I want to be useful; I want to learn about how to be a Jedi Knight; I want him to be proud of me.

I want him to remember that it is my birthday.

Now, we are going on our first official mission. He must have noticed that I was distracted, not concentrating because he starts in on the lessons, asking me to do the "Attention to the Moment Gives Knowledge" and then criticizing me when I get one thing wrong. Can't he tell that I am anxious about the mission? Well, maybe, he can. I apologized - seems I'm always doing that - for the mistake. That appeared to amuse him so I decide to push it a little, looking sheepish as I admit that I am concerned about something personal.

And, before I know it, he is teasing me. My Master, the stoic and silent Qui-Gon Jinn, is actually trying to be funny. He's not very good at it but I appreciated the effort. He asked me to hold out my hand and, into it, he dropped a small stone. He smiled and told me that it is my birthday gift, that it is from the River of Light on his homeworld.

But I cannot hide my shock and deep disappointment. A rock, a stupid rock is my present? What kind of gift is that? For this birthday, the present should be something from the heart, something with meaning and this...was just a cold black stone. I try to see past this, to mask my confusion about receiving such worthless junk. Surely my Master must have thought about the gift; it must have some meaning for him.

I decided that I need to look more closely. After all, Master Qui-Gon is a subtle man with quiet dignity and he is well-respected, even with his roguish reputation.

Turning over the rock in my hand, I tried to see why my Master thought it would be an appropriate gift, to see beyond just the physical. It was a lovely thing - the translucent black had veins of red flowing through it and it glowed when the light hit it. It was comfortable in my hand, warming to my touch, and, if I didn't know better, it seemed almost welcoming and friendly. I don't understand how a stone could be friendly but it was beautiful. I turned to Master Qui-Gon and politely thanked him for the gift.

He looked at me for a moment, disappointed and confused by my reaction but trying to hide it. His eyes went all flat, then he changed the subject and told me to get on board the ship, that the mission awaits. He did not look at me but started striding away, his cloak flying after him. I could tell by the way he walked that he was upset.

I don't know how to fix this rift in our relationship. I'm sorry that I've disappointed him but, after all, he gave me a rock for my birthday. I should be the one that is unhappy.

This is not good. And what am I going to do now? I've made a huge mistake. Like it or not, the rock meant something to Master Qui-Gon and, in my oh-so-typically Oafy-Wan stupidity, I've hurt him. I only hope that I can make it better somehow. I will make it better. Somehow...

**-** **Now -**

Taut flesh and sinew, shaking with the harsh remembrances of past mistakes, clamped tightly around the small stone. And yet, within his closed fist, the flare of heat and lighted rock was disturbing, almost scorching in Force intensity. The memories and the stone were one - and the pain continued to build.

**-** **Then -**

Cerasi is dead. And I am so alone, so alone.

I didn't know what to do when she died. I was numb, lost in a frozen wasteland of dazed half-reality; my heart felt like a giant black hole in the center of my chest, sucking in all light and warmth, leaving me nothing but loss and grief and endless pain. I couldn't think, couldn't feel but I knew I needed to do something. The world, my adopted world - Melida/Daan, was falling apart; the peace that the Young had tried so hard to preserve was disintegrating before my eyes and I couldn't let it happen, not now. I couldn't let Cerasi's sacrifice be in vain.

They had killed her without a thought, murdered her before my horrified eyes; the blaster bolt came out of nowhere and I hadn't been fast enough to save her. Not fast enough, not nearly fast enough. I could do nothing, for all my vaulted Jedi training, as her life soaked away under my hands and then she was gone.

My Cerasi had tried to preserve the peace, even when it seemed hopeless, even when the whole thing was exploding with all the speed of a thermal detonator. She had such courage. Laughing crystal green eyes and a smile that would light up the galaxy and suddenly she was dead. No more teasing words, no more understanding smiles. No more...

And now I am so alone.

With her death, the whole thing seemed to shatter. Her wish for peace turned into a rallying cry for destruction. I tried to stop it but the Young turned on me as well, casting me out into the night - nowhere to run, no friends, no hope. I wandered unseeing and uncaring for days, hardly eating, barely sleeping until I finally stumbled back to the place where she had died. There, hanging from a ragged stump, was a cloth sign saying 'Avenge Cerasi - Choose War'. A red haze fell over my eyes and nothing could stop me until I had torn that abomination into tiny pieces.

So I did what I thought she would want. I contacted the Jedi and begged them to return to this place, to try and stop the madness before there was nothing left. Why they listened to a failed Padawan, a betrayer of the Jedi Order, I do not know. But, somehow, they agreed and now my Mast...former Master is here. Qui-Gon Jinn is here at last.

And so I sit and watch Master Jinn work his magic, welding together a peace that would stand. I sit watching, saying nothing but clutching the only gift he had ever given me, that damned Force-sensitive rock...knowing that he would never forgive me.

I didn't know what else to do when it all fell apart. I had hoped that Master Qui-Gon would come back to help this world and he did; I had hoped that he would help me regain what I had lost but he never will.

Stupid Oafy-Wan. I want to be a Jedi again. I want to go home. But it is too late, far too late for that.

And I am alone.

**-** **Now -**

The memories come faster now, still painful, still cutting his thoughts like a vibroblade through meat. Clenched tightly in his cramping fist, the stone seems to glow through his skin, the heat of the Force burning into his rigid flesh. But the pain of remembrance is more agony than any physical torment. Let it end.

**-** **Then -**

Not again.

The rejection ached like blazing fire and glacial ice, shivering in my blood; the razored pulses of my beating heart and the harsh reverberation of Qui-Gon's retreating footsteps setting off a cacophony of pain and more pain.

I can't believe he has done this. Not again. I trusted him with all that I am and he threw it away. Again.

I had thought that we had gotten past this tangled web of rejection and absolution that had forged our early relationship. After Master Tahl died, Qui-Gon had spiraled out of control, rejecting all condolence and comfort, his unseeing eyes filled with bottomless despair and a reckless anger. I had tried to offer my support and help but he sharply rebuffed it and turned away.

I believed then and I believe now that, beneath all the calm demeanor and repeated denials, he blamed me for her death. Although he never said a word to me, I was his useless fool of an apprentice. Because of my injuries, we were delayed past any hope of saving her life and could only watch as she slipped away into the Force. He never spoke of her again. But there were times when I could almost feel his contempt - I hadn't been the exceptional Padawan he needed in order to save her life. It was a long time before the grief lessened and the light of reason returned to that bleak face. He accepted me back into his life.

But, as the years went by, I could never quite remove that stain of not-good-enough.

And now he has rejected me; my Master has abandoned me once more, the desperate pattern of our lives repeating yet again and, in front of the Council, no less. Rejected as his apprentice, I've been replaced by some backwater kid whom he had known for a mere handful of days. "I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan Learner" echoed through the Council Chamber, the daggerpoints of sound slashed through the fragile tapestry of our existence together, ripping it and my heart to shreds.

What a fool I was to believe that he had accepted me back into his life - a stupid boy expecting to be Knighted. The man had despaired of me from the very beginning, rejecting me time after time. And after so many years, still rejecting, still not there. I thought we had gotten past this insanity of his Force-be-damned choices.

Kenobi, you are such a fool to have ever trusted him.

Now we are on our way back to Naboo, him closeted with the Chosen One and me watching the stars flow past, my riverstone gift grasped tightly in one trembling fist. I am the outcast, the unchosen one, foolish Oafy-Wan.

And so alone, so very alone.

**-** **Now -**

Ever faster, memory and pain merged into a blur of heat and blinding darkness. The torment of the stone pressed deeper into the flesh, creating pockets of hot agony as he clutched it in his spasming hand, channeling, ever channeling into the Force and out again. But the physical was nothing; memory was all and it burned. Let it end. Please.

**-** **Then -**

He is dead. My Master is dead and now I am...

Qui-Gon is dead.

He rejected my help, left me far behind in that damnable corridor. Useless Oafy-Wan who could not even save his Master from...

He is dead and I am alone.

So alone.

**-** **Now -**

The excruciating off-pitched wail of overheated crystal cut the silence, reverberating through the deserted cremation chamber, a cacophony. Half a heartbeat later, shrill agony flashed up from the convulsing fist, tumbling him out of the blurred torment of his past.

Obi-Wan opened his hand to find seared flesh and shredded cuts in his bloodied skin; the detritus of his Master's gift, that Force-sensitive riverstone was now broken into sharp fragments of rock through the use of a Jedi's power, despair channeled into its shattered heart.

Grunting, he carefully brushed his ruined palm free of the black debris, watched the flash and glint of razored particles slid past his broken skin, and fall slowly, drifting down to mix with the remains of Qui-Gon Jinn, incinerated ash and blowing dust and hated memory.

And then he walked away.

The End


End file.
